


Idealist

by McSchnitzel



Category: Diplo (Musician), Skrillex (Musician), skriplo
Genre: M/M, diplo - Freeform, one-sided (kind of), skrillex - Freeform, skriplo - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 05:34:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5900257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McSchnitzel/pseuds/McSchnitzel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skriplo trash</p>
            </blockquote>





	Idealist

**Author's Note:**

> Embarrassing skriplo trash

”You remind me of her.”

It takes me a second to figure out exactly who he is talking about, but it really shouldn’t. Wes talks about her a lot and I don’t mean only lately -he always has- as long as I’ve known him, at any rate. Sometimes there are periods of time when he seems to be moving on for a while but somehow he always slips right back. All it seems to take is a bad night and a few too many - tonight isn’t like that though. We had some great flow today, made some real progress and to finish up the day we ordered chinese take out. All in all I wouldn’t have considered this a bad night but I guess I’ll have to reevaluate…

We’re practically sober and Wes already looks ready to get philosophical on me - which he only ever gets when drunk or high. Maybe it’s the late hour, maybe he’s just tired. There is a sharp wrinkle between his eyebrows and his eyes are hooded and unfocused, seemingly staring into space.

The comparison between me and her is decidedly new and I’m not sure what to make of it to be quite honest.

”Really? Why?” I ask, tilting my head in what I hope looks like genuine and more importantly casual interest.

”The hair,” he says seriously. He’s so deadpan and too good at lying and for a tenth of a second I don’t register the obvious sarcasm.

Then I do a hair-flip and wink and say:

”So that’s where the attraction lies.” But I regret it immediately. Why’d I have to say ‘attraction’. Way to be subtle, Sonny.

”Ha yeah. No. Just the way you talk sometimes,” he laughs rubbing the back of his neck, “Sometimes it’s downright eerie how similar the things coming out of your mouth are to the things she’d say.”

I don’t know how to feel about that. But his eyes are very blue, like ice, and they make me feel some type of way - as usual.

“Like what?” I ask because I need examples before deciding how to feel about this. He seems to take a moment of contemplation before answering:

“I don’t know. Just the way you talk about world issues and shit like that with such passion, you know? I don’t know. You’re just like her in that sense though - an idealist.” He smiles but it’s different, more serious and more genuine. I can only hold that gaze for so long before I look away blushing.

“That’s one of the things I really admired about her,” he continues when I don’t cut in, “I could never be like that, you know? But that doesn’t mean I don’t respect people who are, with strong values - it’s important. The world, the world would be a darker place without people like you, you know?”

“Wow. Thanks,” I mumble blushing furiously but I think I mean it. I laugh and lean forward, set out to punch his shoulder but I’m not really one to punch people’s shoulders and it ends up more like a pat, a very gentle pat.

A comfortable silence settles over the room and I lean back in the armchair again thinking of what Wes has just said. I’m an idealist? I haven’t thought about myself that way before. I only ever tried to be a decent person. Am I naive? The word ‘idealist’ itself seems to carry a kind of patronizing tone.

“You think I’m naive?”, I ask hesitantly.

“Naive?” Wes looks up from his phone. He seems to halt slightly before continuing. He’s thinking, probably. About what though?

“Yes, do you think that I’m naive to see the world like that? Like something that can actually be improved?”

“No! Or not in a bad way at least. I wouldn’t say naive so much as… Optimistic? And caring and relentless when it comes to what you believe in. It’s a very good quality, like I said, the world would be a darker place without you.”

“But you could never be like that? Why is that?” I didn’t mean to get upset about it but I’m worked up and a little frustrated because if he looks up to idealists so much why didn’t he just become one?

“Sonny,” he utters my name with an unfamiliar intensity, almost pleading and I don’t have time to react before he’s there. Close. Leaning in. Keeping my stare. Leaning in. I guess I kind of realize that he’s about to kiss me but it’s still shocking.

“You sound just like her, saying that,” he whispers and I shiver because he breathes the words right in my ear before pressing those soft lips at the edge of my ear and cheek. His hand goes up to my hair and neck and I laugh because was it the hair? The next kiss isn’t as gentle and I guess I’m partly responsible.

“Yeah? You like that?”, I grin into his mouth and this is decidedly sick. I don’t care though. All I care about is his hands - bigger than mine and everywhere; his mouth - also everywhere; my lap - he’s practically in it. I know it doesn’t mean anything. I’m not her but for the moment that’s fine.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you have any constructive criticism I would be happy to hear it, you're technically my beta-readers.


End file.
